The Least Likely to Succeed
by TheAdventuringAdventurer
Summary: She isn't the typical "heroine" that's normally written about. But this isn't about heroics. This is a story about a young woman and the choices she makes-either good or bad-and the ramifications of those choices. Based on the choices she's made so far in life...it doesn't look good. In fact, she's probably the LEAST likely to ever be considered a "hero"...for now.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hey all! So this is my very first published anything!(Isn't this exciting? You're part of history right now!) It's also my very first fan fiction. I'm still trying to figure all of this out, so please bear with me. Also, I could really use y'all's help in letting me know how I'm doing...so please leave me reviews (good or bad), so that I can grow! And of course if you really like it, I'd be honored for any follows! :)

**Chapter One: Voices and Friends**

The writing on the wall called out to her. Its rhythmic beating continued pulling her closer and closer until she was engulfed in the swarm of an ancient and forgotten knowledge. She was blinded by the force that seeped into the very depths of her soul. This wasn't the first wall she had come upon, and she guessed it wouldn't be the last; but what it all meant was still an undecipherable mystery to her. As her vision began to clear a solitary word entered her consciousness…"FUS"._ Force_. She thought to herself…though she didn't have the damnedest idea how she knew that. No time to ponder this however, for as her vision cleared entirely, the sarcophagus near her popped open and a Draugr Overlord climbed out.

The undead warrior unsheathed its ancient battle axe and charged the adventurer. Completely undaunted by the surprise of her newfound enemy, the young woman unsheathed her own two blades, and within seconds had skillfully hacked her foe back into the lifeless form it had been—stealing its soul in the process.

She took a moment to breathe and wipe the blood off her blades with the edge of her armor. She then began searching the corpse before her. A few pieces of gold, a small soul gem, and a stone tablet—which she determined must be the object of her pursuit in this gods-forsaken tomb. She then searched the elaborate chest located to the side of the wall. After sorting through the gold(which she instantly pocketed), the few pieces of enchanted armor and potions, she took what she thought would bring her a pretty penny, and began her way out of the tomb through a narrow corridor to the left of the room.

She was soon out in the open Skyrim countryside. She exhaled the air of death and decay from her lungs—air she was all too familiar with—and sucked in the cold mountain air. It was a fresh and pleasant scent of pine and snow. It reminded her of a better time that had long since passed. She took a good look around, keeping an eye and ear out for anything out of the normal. Apart from the distant howling of a couple wolves, all seemed clear. It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping rapidly, so she made her way to Riverwood—the small village located a few miles east.

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After returning the golden claw she had obtained in the tomb to the grateful shopkeeper and his sister, she made her way to the village inn—looking forward to the comfort of a fresh meal and a warm bed. She entered and headed towards the bar, where a rough looking man was wiping the counter.

"Name's Orgnar. I'm just the cook here at the sleeping Giant. If you're looking for a room, you'll have to talk to Delphine, the innkeeper." The bartender spoke gruffly.

"So where is this innkeeper?" She asked. She looked around, and realized that she and Orgnar were the only ones in the inn.

"Delphine's out right now, and can do what she wants. She owns the place." He replied, as though she should already know this.

She arched an eyebrow, "So how am I supposed to rent a room?" she asked pointedly.

"You're not. Inn's closed." He replied in the same tone. He began wiping the counter again, apparently concluding their conversation.

The young woman could feel her temper flare up inside her like a caged beast being poked with a stick. She set her jaw, turned on her heels and headed to the door. _This idiot has absolutely no idea who he's dealing with_. She thought darkly. _But it's not actually his fault…_another voice inside her head argued_. I mean what kind of innkeeper leaves their inn and shuts it down completely? _The darker voice answered back: _The one with a death wish_. She took a deep breath as she stepped back out into the cold, and let the air hiss through her teeth as she exhaled. _Oh enough of this! Begone! You're no good to me anymore. _She pushed the dark thoughts from her mind before they could retort back, sat on the inn's front steps and began thinking of a backup plan. _I could head to Whiterun now…but it's so cold…ugh and I'm exhausted._ She placed her hands on her face, rubbed her eyes and sighed. _There's always the other option…_she looked over to her left to what was clearly the largest house in Riverwood. _But I haven't spoken with them in so long…they've probably forgotten who I am…_She stood up and rubbed her hands together nervously_. It's not like I have much of a choice apart from freezing to death._ She shivered a bit as she resolved this in her mind and headed to the lumberjack's home.

She had only knocked twice before the door was opened and a tall blonde Nord woman stood in front of her. "Nola? Is that really you? My gods girl, come in before you catch your death!" The woman exclaimed loudly. Before Nola could say anything the Nord had grabbed her warmly by the hand and pulled her inside shutting the door behind her.

"Uh hello, Gerdur. Hod." Nola nodded to the man sitting at the table to her left. "I didn't mean to disturb you all, I just—"

"Oh nonsense! We're so pleased to see you again! It has been far too long, dear friend. Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Before Nola could even reply, Gerdur had sat her down at the table next to her husband and placed a plate heaping full of hot food and a tankard of cold ale before her. "Of course you must be starved! Eat, EAT! Do you have a place to stay? Of course you do—what am I saying? You'll stay here!"

Gerdur was still chatting on, but Nola hardly noticed. She hadn't realized how famished she really was until the food was before her. She tried desperately to not seem like an animal as she devoured the food, but once she dug in, she didn't care how she seemed. Within moments her plate and tankard were empty, her belly was full, and she realized Gerdur was still talking.

"…and we've been so happy he's been able to stay with us as long as he has." Gerdur stopped to take a breath.

Nola held up her hand, "I'm sorry…who has?" But before anyone could answer the door opened and a tall Nord man stepped in. He was strongly built, and wore the signature blue armor of the Stormcloaks—the Nordic rebels of the Empire. He was not at all unattractive with his long blonde hair and blue eyes, and looked like her could be closely related to Gerdur—which made sense since he was her brother. "Ralof!" Nola exclaimed in surprise, and jumped up to give the big man a hug.

"Nola! I can't believe it's you! I never thought I'd see you again! What're you doing here? What have you been doing? It's been ages since I saw you last!" Ralof exclaimed in equal surprise as he returned the hug. "Let me look at you!" He took a step back and took a good look at the tiny Breton standing before him.

She was tiny indeed, standing a good head and a half shorter than him, and was actually smaller than most Bretons, but not at all puny. Come to think of it, she looked entirely different since the last time he had seen her. She wore a tight fitted leather armor that looked like it fit her very feminine form perfectly—quite the difference from the awkwardly fitting Stormcloak armor he had found for her that was two sizes too big. She had a pale complexion—except now there was an ever present rosy tint in her cheeks and lips. Her deep red hair framed her face and was cut just slightly longer than the length of her jaw—another big difference from last time, where her hair had went past her shoulders in a long tangled mess. The only thing that remained the same was her bright pale green eyes shaded under dark lashes. She was, by anyone's standards, quite lovely to look at. _It's the same girl I met in Helgen…yet so different. She seems so much…older now, yet more...alive. What has happened since last we met? _Ralof wondered, but instantly put on a wide grin.

"You're looking well, friend! You actually look like you could stand a chance against me this time!" He said playfully getting into a fighting stance.

For the first time in what seemed like years, Nola smiled. "You cheated last time. Next time you won't be so lucky." She said with an arched eyebrow.

Ralof laughed, gave his sister a hug and then sat down next to the fire. He patted to a spot next to him indicating for Nola to sit. "It's been too long. Tell me, what have you been doing since our last visit? And what brings you back here?"

Nola was about to reply, when Gerdur stopped them both. "Now you two can wait til tomorrow to catch up. It's far too late, and Hod and I have work to do at the mill early tomorrow morning. Ralof, you'll sleep here…" Gerdur handed him a bed roll and pointed to the empty space in front of the fire. "… and Nola you'll sleep in Ralof's bed."

No one argued, and Nola was quite relieved. Amidst the excitement of reuniting with her friend, she felt the effects of the food and ale along with the warmth of the fire settling inside her—drawing her into a state of exquisite drowsiness. She wished everyone goodnight, thanked Hod and Gerdur for the hundredth time it seemed, and then settled into the warm bed. She listened to the quiet whispers and chuckles of Gerdur, Hod and Ralof as they bade each other goodnight. Soon no sound reached her ears except the crackling of the fire. _These are good people._ She thought to herself with a slight smile, but then the smile quickly faded away. _I shouldn't be here. They don't really know me. They wouldn't want me here if they did. I should've just gone to Whiterun. _She sighed as she fought the battles inside her…her mind becoming foggier as sleep slowly won her over. _I'll leave first thing in the morning…_she reasoned, and everything became dark.

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Nola woke up to two big blue eyes staring at her. "I remember you. You're that lady that escaped with Uncle Ralof!" Hod and Gerdur's boy Frodnar pointed out.

Nola sat up and stretched. "You've got a good memory. What time is it?" She asked looking around. She could see in the window the sun had barely risen.

"Almost breakfast time. Hey, wanna play a game?" Frodnar asked hopefully.

Nola chuckled. "Uh….sure…where is everyone?" She noticed that she, Frodnar and his dog Stump were the only ones in the house.

"Ma and Da are at the mill already and uncle Ralof is somewhere…wanna play tag?" Frodnar asked heading to the front door, not really waiting for an answer.

"Ok...But only for a few minutes." She warned, looking around to make sure no one was watching.

For the next few minutes they took turns chasing each other and laughing, until both were out of breath. "Gods…I haven't played that in years." Huffed Nola. _Not to mention anything else for that matter._ She shook her head and headed back inside the house. _I've already delayed too long_. _They could return at any moment. I need to get my stuff and head out as soon as possible. _She grabbed a roll of paper and a piece of charcoal out of her pack and wrote a quick "thank you" note to Gerdur and Hod for their hospitality. She then gathered her things and made a quick and quiet exit.

"Leaving so soon?" Nola started and looked to see Ralof sitting on a bench propped against the outside of the house, looking up at her with his arms across his chest. "And no goodbye? That hardly seems fair…" He said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh you…"Nola sighed exasperatedly and sat next to him.

"We didn't even get a chance to catch up. Where are you off to now?" He asked.

"Whiterun. On a job." She replied, not giving any more details.

"A job eh…? What kind of job?" He asked suspiciously, arching his eyebrow. He remembered all too well her choice of guardian stone when they had passed the three on their way from Helgen. "Or do I want to know…?"

Nola waved him off. "Oh no. Not that kind of job...this time anyway." She winked and he just shook his head. "It's actually a job for the Jarl."

Ralof's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The Jarl? Now how'd you end up with something like that?"

Nola sighed exhausted all of a sudden. "I'm not really sure. One minute I'm telling him about the dragon at Helgen, the next I'm talking to his wizard, who needs me to retrieve some sort of artifact stone thing from Bleak Falls Barrow." She shrugged. "As long as the pay is good, I guess it doesn't really matter."

"Let me get this straight. The Jarl of Whiterun gives you a job to go to Bleak Falls Barrow and retrieve an artifact for his court wizard?_ You_?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes me. Why?" Nola asked indignantly. "Don't think I could cut it?"

"Oh it's not that…I don't think even I could cut it…alone especially. Just…doesn't he have guards for that line of work, or mercenaries? Gods!" He shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. "To send a woman out, alone, to retrieve a simple artifact…THIS is exactly why I'm with the Stormcloaks. The high and mighty Jarls who sit comfortably in their thrones, telling us how to live our lives—who we can and cannot worship! It's preposterous!" He nearly shouted throwing his fist into the air. He leaned back against the house then for a few moments, and Nola said nothing. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the villagers begin their daily business and the rushing of the river out near the mill. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "Speaking of which…I see you never took up my offer to become one of us…a Stormcloak. We could really use you."

Nola snickered at that.

"What? We_ could_." He replied earnestly.

Nola took a good long look at him. "Ralof, listen. I'm not…the soldiering type. I don't necessarily…play well with others….and I especially don't take kindly to orders." Ralof snickered at that. She ignored him. "…And even if I did…I'd be damned if I were to follow HIS orders—no offense!" She quickly added. She continued before he could interject, "You're actually one of the absolute few—if not the only—Stormcloak I can actually tolerate, not to mention like. I see your point of course, and I certainly don't blame you for fighting for what you believe to be right…but I'm not a Nord. And it would be pretty backwards of me to fight for someone who's against anything that isn't a Nord…especially the elves. Now don't get me wrong…I'm not for the side of the elves either. In fact, I detest the Thalmor. But I detest bigots even more. It's better if I just stay_ out_ of politics entirely." She took a deep breath hoping she hadn't angered her friend. Friends were hard to come by—especially for Nola, as she wasn't in the habit of opening up and trusting just anyone. Ralof was one of the very few people she could, without any hesitation, call "her friend". The idea of offending him in any way made her anxious—a feeling she wasn't too familiar with normally.

Ralof sat there in silence for a moment or two, but he sat back up and nodded looking over to Nola, who was staring into his face for some kind of reaction. "Aye. I understand." He said softly and gave her a grin.

Nola sighed in relief and then chuckled a bit. "Now I believe it's your turn to explain what _you're_ doing here. Aren't you supposed to be on orders in Windhelm? Or are you playing 'hooky'?" She teased.

Ralof, however, was all seriousness in his reply. "There's been…an incident. I don't know if you've heard, but Emperor Titus Mede II is dead."

Nola's smile froze instantly and she felt her heart stop. The all too familiar taunt whispered in her ear as she felt a tightness close around her throat. _You can _never _escape us. We will haunt your shadows. This is your fate, or have you forgotten? _ "Wh-what….? When? How?" She finally choked out with a tone of shock.

Ralof looked at her strangely. _That's an odd reaction_. He thought. "I…didn't realize you felt so much for the empire…"

Nola cleared her throat. "What? No. NO! Of course not…I…guess I was just shocked by the news…" _Let me alone! You are not welcome here! _Her insides screamed back. "So…what does his death have to do with you—or any of the Stormcloaks for that matter?" She asked, attempting to veer the conversation.

"The Empire is trying to pin his death on Ulfric and his men. And why not? Ever since King Torygg's death, the Empire is just itching for any reason to blame Jarl Ulfric. They don't have an ounce of proof, but that won't matter. If they decide it was our men that did this, then the inevitable bloodshed will begin. We must be ready. There's talk of marching on Whiterun in order to gain that higher ground. We're waiting on Jarl Balgruuf to determine what side he's on. I have orders to remain at one of our camps nearby until we receive word on what we shall do. I was passing through and wished to see my family. I leave this evening. We're instructed to travel by night in order to lessen the chance of being seen by the Imperials. And that is that." He leaned back against the house as he finished. He shut his eyes, but then opened them as a thought hit him. He sat up and looked at Nola—concern written in fine lines across forehead. "I wouldn't linger in Whiterun too long if I were you. Wouldn't want you to get caught in the middle. That is, if you've still a mind to go. You don't have to, you know." He said softly.

Nola half-smiled at the concern he had for her. She wasn't really used to such genuine care from others—not unless they expected something in return, that is. It was…refreshing. She placed her hand on his. "Thank you, Ralof. I wish I _could _stay. And believe me, I would if I could. But I promised I'd bring this—whatever this is—back..."She said patting her pack. "…and I've put this off for far too long." With that she stood up, and Ralof rose as well. "Please thank Gerdur and Hod for me." She gave her Nord friend a big hug, and stretched on her toes to peck him on the cheek. "Goodbye, dear friend. _Please_ be safe out there."

"_You_ be safe girl. And may Talos guide you." Ralof hugged her once more. And she set off down the road towards Whiterun. He watched her go and smiled softly as he watched her small frame saunter down the main road of Riverwood and murmured, "Farewell, Nola Underhill. I pray we meet again."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Shout Heard 'Round the World. **

"How in all of Oblivion did I end up here?" Nola cursed under her breath. She was hiding behind what seemed to be a crushed rock wall, near Whiterun's western watchtower. She was waiting for the Jarl's Housecarl and guards to catch up. She had made it to Whiterun a few hours earlier and had returned that blasted stone to the Jarl's wizard, Farengar. But before she had time to bat an eye—or ask for her reward—she was whisked away on what she deemed now as a fool's errand to take down a dragon that was attacking outside the city. A _DRAGON_. The Jarl had insisted on her going because of her "experience with the dragon at Helgen". _Apparently running for your life counts as experience and makes you a world class dragon slayer_. She thought wryly.

She looked around. Something definitely had been there, and whatever it was it was BIG. Flames were licking the ground at the base of the tower, and she could see a couple of bodies lying about. Crushed rock was strewn across the ground in misshapen heaps. Yes…something big indeed. She heard rustling behind her and looked to see Irileth, the Jarl's Dunmer Housecarl, and five Whiterun guards standing in formation, their weapons drawn.

After a quick pep talk from Irileth, they were instructed to cautiously search for survivors and be on the lookout for the dragon. Nola spotted one guard hiding in the doorway of the tower, so she made her way up there. The guard immediately started hissing at her to stay back, but she wasn't listening. The hairs on the back of her neck had begun to rise and goosebumps shot up and down her arms and legs. An all too familiar feeling struck her as she remembered a time when she had come very close to being struck by lightning…or—more recently—when she was about to be executed, but was interrupted by the colossal presence of a black dragon. She looked up just as the enormous shadow glided past her and let out an ear splitting roar, lighting up the sky with its terrific fire breath.

Time slowed down to a near halt, and Nola could only hear the beating of her heart. She wasn't afraid however—which shocked her. She was entranced—sucked in—by the majesty of the beast. The dragon had flown about and was now flying in her direction. Their eyes met. He hovered before her and let out his powerful breath—which was almost like…_A shout?_ It was almost as if Nola could hear the dragon speaking to her…_But that's ridiculous_! She was so enchanted that had one of the guards not pounced on her at that exact moment, she would have been engulfed in flames.

Nola started as if from a dream and grabbed her bow and drew an arrow. _You're beautiful._ She thought. _But now you will die_. She pointed at where the dragon's heart should be and released the arrow. The dragon lurched in the air and cried out. This time Nola heard him.

"**Brit grah! I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!"** He growled and flew high out of reach of arrows. The next moment he dove down upon them, but Nola was ready. This time her arrow sent the dragon crashing into the ground, but the battle was far from over. Mirmulnir—as that was his name, and it was far beyond Nola how she knew this—was crawling around the ground, and within seconds had snatched up a guard who had gotten too close and threw his lifeless body against the tower. **"My overlord will devour your souls in Sovngarde!"** He bellowed, breathing more flames upon his foes. He turned his serpent head in Nola's direction just as she sent another arrow that merely hit his scaly hide and bounced off. Their eyes met again and he began to half slither, half crawl towards her. **"You are brave. Balaan hokoran. Your defeat brings me honor."** He sneered. He let out another breath of fire in her direction.

She tried to jump out of the way—and actually thought she made it—when a searing, blinding pain shot up her right leg. She looked down and saw that a few rogue flames had caught onto her boot and were licking their way up. She cursed to herself and began beating her leg with her pack—to no avail—and ended up throwing herself on the ground, rolling to her right and to her left to extinguish the fire.. She succeeded and jumped up and whipped around to look for the beast. _They better pay me a king's ransom after all this!_ Her inside voice screamed.

Lucky for her, Irileth and the remaining guards had taken the dragon's focus off of her. They were busily hacking away at his wings while trying to keep as far away from his teeth and massive tail as possible. Nola saw that they had succeeded with one wing and were busy with the second. She also could sense that Mirmulnir was getting tired—especially now that he was stripped of his flight. She almost had pity on him for a brief moment. Almost.

She walked as close as she dared, drew an arrow and pointed it between his wicked eyes. She made eye contact with his menacing glare, and stayed her arrow for just a moment as she saw in those eyes a look of recognition which was instantly replaced with a look of sheer terror.

"**Dovahkiin? No!"** He screamed in rage spewing flames above Nola's head.

She released the arrow, and it met its mark. Mirmulnir threw his writhing head back and his whole body collapsed before Nola, causing her to be thrown roughly onto her backside. All was still.

Nola stood up cautiously, checking her limbs for any major damage, and began walking over to Mirmulnir's lifeless body for a better look. The guards began to cheer but were cut short, for just as Nola reached the body, it burst into flame. Nola tried to take a step back but was unable, as she felt an incredible wave crash upon her—knocking her to her knees. It was as if the dragon's life essence, its very _soul_, was ripped from its bones and sucked into her own existence—whether she willed it or not. She couldn't move. She couldn't utter a sound. All she could do was allow it to happen and wait for it to be over. It was terrifying, and heart wrenching, and exhilarating, and empowering all at the same moment. So many emotions swarmed her and overwhelmed her. It was as if in that brief moment—which seemed like forever—she was seeing life from the eyes of the dragon, and it instantly made her hunger and yearn for more.

Then it was over. She just sat there, completely dumbfounded and drained as though _her_ very soul had been ripped from her. _What. Just. Happened? _She took a deep breath and then tried to stand up on shaky legs. She looked over where the body of the mighty dragon Mirmulnir should have been, but only found a heap of scales and bones.

"You…you must be Dragonborn!" A voice exclaimed behind her. She turned and saw three guards staring at her—all with pretty much the same expression on their faces: Shock and awe. The one nearest her continued. "I don't believe it. You took its very soul!"

Nola was confused. "I'm sorry…wha-?"

"Can you shout?" Another guard chimed in, cutting her off.

"Yes! Shout! It's said that the Dragonborn could shout without any training!" added the third guard.

"What are you all going on about? Dragoborns…shouts…all nonsense to me!" Irileth cut in.

"You're not a Nord, Irileth you wouldn't understand." The first guard answered back. Then they all began to argue amongst themselves.

Annoyed with the unanswered riddles, Nola tuned out the chatter as she began feeling a great stirring in her very depths. _Now what?!_ It was intensifying, becoming harder for her to suppress as it continued to build up inside her, crawling up her throat until she could bear it no longer…

"**FUS!" **

The air left her lungs in a powerful, unearthly shout, causing the ground to quake and stagger the guards. Two actually lost their balance entirely and fell clumsily on top on each other in a dazed and shocked heap. It would have been humorous if Nola's head wasn't spinning around so fast. _What is happening to me? I have to get out of here!_ Nola looked and felt very much like a trapped animal at that moment. The guards were talking a mile a minute to her, but her ears were still ringing from the "shout" so she couldn't really hear or understand anything they were saying to her—not that she wanted to anyways. She barely heard Irileth command her to return to the Jarl to tell him what had occurred. _Anything to get me out of here and away from these crazy loons!_ She thought. She scrambled to retrieve her bow and arrows, which had been thrown about during the chaos, and headed in the direction of Whiterun.

Just as she was entering the gates of the city, a tremendous peal of thunder erupted all around her and the words _**"Dovahkiin!" **_floated through the air. Nola didn't slow her step and continued up towards Dragonsreach—the great palace in Whiterun. She was determined to complete this job, collect her payment, and get the hell out—absolutely intending to forget this entire strange night, and get out of this city.

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Nola's brain couldn't take much more of this. She was before Jarl Balgruff the Greater, and had reported the events of that night at the watchtower—specifically leaving out the little details about her—and yet he still managed to fish out everything. Now he was telling her that she was indeed Dragonborn, and that the sound she heard when entering the gates was actually a summons for her from the Greybeards. He then went on to describe the Greybeards as the "Masters of the Way of the Voice" and that they live on top of the Throat of the World—the highest mountain in all of Tamriel—in their monastery known as High Hrothgar, and that in order to reach High Hrothgar, you must make the trek up the 7,000 steps. He explained that they would summon the Dragonborns of old to train them in the Way of the Voice; for the Dragonborns were known as great heroes who would use the power of their voice—their "Thu'um or "shout"—to defeat great enemies in Skyrim. They were also known for being great dragon slayers of old, who would steal their power—their souls. He told her that she must make way to High Hrothgar immediately, as no one should ignore the summons of the Greybeards. He continued on for a couple more minutes—which seemed like hours—and went back and forth debating with his steward Proventus, and his younger brother Hrongar. Meanwhile, throughout all of this, Nola remained silent, nodding her head and acting as though she understood everything that was being told to her—which couldn't have been more opposite from the truth. _I think I need to lie down. No wait. A drink. Definitely need a drink first. _

The Jarl probably sensed her feelings at that moment, for he stopped whatever he had been talking about and then hurriedly went on to dub her "Thane" of Whiterun (which supposedly is the greatest honor you can receive from a Jarl). He then issued her a weapon from his personal armory to serve as her "badge of office" and assigned her a personal housecarl by the name of Lydia. He also granted her permission to purchase a house in the hold—at a modest fee. All of this Nola was familiar with already, as she currently held the title of Thane in Markarth—though she barely spent any time there anymore.

After a quick introduction to her new housecarl, she was on her way to The Bannered Mare, the local tavern and inn. While she walked she tried to wrap her mind around everything that occurred—especially the news that she was supposedly this "Dragonborn", and that she had been summoned by these "Greybeards" who were supposed to train her. The idea of being some sort of legendary "hero" made her almost laugh out loud in the middle of the town square. _Because that's EXACTLY the kind of person I am._ She thought, almost bitterly. None of this sounded very appealing to her…Speaking to monks, slaying dragons for a hobby, climbing 7,000 steps—especially climbing 7,000 steps_. This is CRAZY. What's in it for me anyways? If these monks want to see me so badly, why can't THEY come find me? _She waved off the entire crazy notion_. Thanks…but no thanks._ And she decided then that she wouldn't spend another moment dwelling on any of it.

As she reached the front door of the inn, she stopped and took a deep breath. Being one of Whiterun's most popular social gathering hubs, she knew there was a great chance of seeing at _least_ one person she'd rather not see—and she'd venture the feeling would be mutual. _Here we go_. She prepared herself and entered. Thankfully, due to her arriving there so late, the only ones sitting around were the local drunks. Most everyone else was either at home or in their rooms. Even that pesky bard Mikael was nowhere to be seen.

She approached the counter and nodded to Hulda, the innkeeper. She rented a room and ordered an ale—then thought better of it and ordered a second one. _It's been a long day_. She reasoned. As Hulda was getting her ales, she reached in her coin pouch and pulled out what little bit of money she had left. She then realized that though she was given the title of Thane and many praises had been lifted in her honor, not one coin had been offered for any of her efforts. She shook her head and snickered. _Typical._ "I'll pay the rest tomorrow." She explained as she pushed what she had across the counter. Hulda just waved her off. Nola smiled appreciatively. She was glad Hulda knew she was good for it. After all, she always gave Hulda enough business whenever she was in town. She picked up her pouch and a crumpled piece of paper fell out onto the floor. _That's odd._ She thought, and picked it up. She shoved it in her pocket—planning to look it over later—grabbed her drinks and headed to her room.

By the time she made it upstairs to her room she had nearly finished her first ale. She plopped onto the large bed and probably would have fallen asleep right then, had she not felt the wad of paper poking her from inside her pocket. Curiosity got the better of her and she uncrumpled it and began reading. Once she realized what it was, she sighed and rubbed her face with her hand. Then she took another drink.

It was from Delvin. A job he had given her_ several_ months ago—back when she had still been taking jobs. Back before—well, everything. She felt a pang of remorse as she realized she had never actually finished the job. She shook her head grimly as she started remembering what kept her from it…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Memories—Part 1**

_**Six Months Earlier:**_

Delvin Mallory handed her the details for a bedlam job she had agreed to do in Whiterun. "You know the drill, steal at least five hundred gold worth of goods, and then come see me." He reminded her.

"Yes…I've done one or two of these jobs, thanks." Nola rolled her eyes and smirked. She spread her hand in a wipe sweep, indicating the growing guild—which she had had a big part to play in making happen.

"Good, then I don't need to remind you…you get caught, we never heard of ya." He sniffed and waved her off haughtily, taking a swig of mead. Nola couldn't help but notice the slight twinkle in his eyes as she headed out.

Delvin watched her leave out of the corner of his eye, and chuckled to himself as he shook his head. _That girl's as cocky as they come, but she's goin' places_. He thought to himself. He'd liked the new recruit—almost as soon as she'd joined. He'd never admit it, of course. That just wasn't his way. Better for them all to work their hinds off and strive to earn his unachievable respect, than actually know they already had it. That was his motto. It was more productive this way.

He looked around the Ragged Flagon and the improvements that had already been made in only a month. There was already a merchant that had moved in next door—thanks to Nola's skill in getting the doors in Markarth open for the Guild. He remembered how shocked he had been at how quickly she'd done it. Endon, their connection in Markarth, had had nothing but praises for her. _Maybe Bryn is right…she is the luck we've needed. _He mulled it over hopefully and took another drink.

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The air in Riften was especially muggy, and the smell of fish was overwhelmingly putrid that day. Nola could barely restrain from gagging. _You'd think after being here a month, I'd be used to it by now_. She thought with a twinge of disgust. Now, she actually didn't hate Riften. She actually loved being on Lake Honrich—as she loved the water; and on a clear day, Riften was rather pretty, as the smells from the fish market and the sewer (known as the Ratway) weren't nearly as stagnant. The townsfolk-though extremely paranoid(and with good reason)—were interesting, if not entertaining, to observe; which was perfect for Nola, because she was an observer. No, she didn't hate Riften at all; in fact, you could almost say she _liked_ Riften. It was definitely an "acquired taste".

She stopped in front of the Temple of Mara and looked at her map to decide which route she would take. She decided to go the roundabout way and stop in Windhelm first, so she could get Vex's job out of the way and get out of that city as soon as possible. She never was thrilled about going to Windhelm—the one city in Skyrim that was known for its strong racism. The Dunmer elves—who were treated as peasants—were forced to live in the rundown east side of the city. The Argonians—who weren't even allowed to live in the city—were treated almost as bad as slaves, receiving next to no wages for their hard work at the docks. And then there were the Khajit caravans—who weren't even allowed near the city. The last time she was there, she had had a run-in with one of those racist bungling idiots, and he made the mistake of trying to start something. She beat him down so fast; he didn't know what exactly hit him. Nola smiled at the memory. Too often people would see her petite size and underestimate her. This oaf learned his lesson fast.

As she started her way up Riften's walkway toward the North Gate, she passed two men and a woman conversing rather loudly amongst themselves.

"Did you hear about old Grelod? She died the other night in her sleep—or so the guards are saying. Some say it was _murder_!" One of the men finished in a hoarse mock whisper. Nola's heart began to beat just a little bit faster, and she sped up her steps.

"Aye, I heard. I'm surprised it took someone this long!" The other man snickered.

"But who would do such a thing? I mean she certainly wasn't the _nicest_ person in Riften…but she was headmistress of Honorhall Orphanage…surely murder is too far!" The woman insisted. Nola casually tried to pass them—not meeting any of their eyes—as quickly as possible without drawing attention.

"Not the nicest? The only kindness was in her name "Grelod the Kind"…other than that there wasn't a nice bone in her whole wicked body! How that old hag became headmistress of that orphanage is beyond me! _No one's_ sad to see her gone! And those kids probably have a fighting chance now, I'll wager!" The first man exclaimed.

"Aye! I wouldn't even put it past one of those lil' urchins to be the one to have done away with her!" the second man sneered. The men burst out laughing then, patting each other on the backs, and began heading back towards the market square—the woman followed behind, scolding them.

Nola was soon outside the city walls and let out a sigh of relief. After a few moments of debating between horse or carriage, she chose carriage—reasoning with herself that it had been a long couple of days. She paid the carriage driver the coin and hopped into the back. _Hopefully I can get some sleep during the ride._ She thought.

But sleep she did not; instead, she began to think back to what she had heard. _If they only knew how horrible she really had been_…she thought. Anger slowly began to course through her veins as she remembered her visit there earlier in the week.

She could picture it all so clearly: _She had entered the orphanage upon hearing faint screaming coming from inside, while she had been passing by on her way to the blacksmith. Once inside, she had crept up to the doorway that led into the main room and took a peek inside. Just the sight made her blood boil. An old hag-like woman—that Nola could only assume was Grelod—was dragging a little girl by her hair towards a room to the far right. They left Nola's sight for a few moments, but she could hear the young girl pleading with Grelod, and Grelod was screaming an undistinguishable reply. Nola then heard the unmistaken sound of a hand slapping flesh and then there was nothing but the faint sound of a child crying. _

_Grelod exited the back and stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the other children—who remained fearfully silent. "Now if anyone else would like to complain about their food rations they can join Runa! Anyone? ANYONE?" She bellowed. _

"_No, Grelod." The children all said in unison, all staring at their feet. "We love you Grelod. Thank you for your kindness."_

"_That's more like it. Now all you guttersnipes get to your chores!" She spat. They all immediately dashed out of the room, rushing to find the closest chore available. She made her way to a room on the left and shut the door behind her._

_Nola took this opportunity to check on the girl. She snuck over to the room on the right and was caught off guard by the sight. The tiny room was empty except for several shackles nailed to the walls—with the little girl's hands clasped in one pair as she hung there in a pitiful state. Tears were streaming down her dirty face, and there was a red angry mark across her left cheek—where Nola guessed Grelod had struck her. Nola quietly moved across the room to the girl and gently wiped the tears from her face. The girl didn't make a sound, but just sadly looked back at Nola._

_Nola could take it no longer. The sight had brought back such painful memories of her own awful childhood, that she was nearly blinded by rage and couldn't keep herself from shaking any longer. Keeping to the shadows, Nola made her way to Grelod's room. She silently opened the door and peered inside. Grelod's back was to the door, so Nola took the opportunity to slip into the room and shut the door behind her without a sound. Grelod must have heard or felt a presence there, for she whipped around and her eyes landed directly on Nola._

"_Who are you? And what in Oblivion do _you_ want?! Guards!" And before she could shout again, Nola struck her with such force that she was thrown backwards smashing her head against an end table. She was dazed for a moment, but got back up. "You'll pay for that!" She hissed. "I'll see to it you that you rot in the dungeon! Guar—" But Nola lost all control and in that moment she no longer saw Grelod, but her own stepmother who used to beat her mercilessly at the drop of a hat. The next thing she knew she was staring down at Grelod's lifeless body, but she felt no remorse. In fact, she almost felt satisfied, spurred on by some dark hunger inside her. _

_She had to get out of there. Once she was sure no one was outside the room, she exited—shutting the door behind her—and made her way back through the house. She barely made it out of the orphanage before Constance, Grelod's second in command, returned from the market. She let out a deep breath that she hadn't even known she was holding. She tried to steady her now trembling fingers, and decided she needed to cool down by the water. By this time the sun was going down, so Nola easily slipped into the growing shadows and slowly made her way towards the docks. _

_When she reached the water, she let out a sigh of relief and just slipped in until she was submerged up to her neck. Then she took a breath and went completely under. Swimming was one of the few things that always calmed her completely. The darkness above made it nearly impossible to see; but she didn't care, she actually welcomed it. The water rushing in her ears blocked out every other noise, leaving her to her thoughts without a single distraction. She wasn't sorry about what she did, and it wasn't even the first time she had killed someone. But it had been the first time she ever _murdered _someone, and that shook her up a bit. She remained under for as long as her lungs would allow and then resurfaced. She climbed back onto the dock and just sat there, her feet dangling over the water. Her shaking had long since passed, but she decided to wait a while and let herself and her clothes dry a bit before heading back to the guild headquarters. _

Nola sighed as she remembered how ever since that night, she hadn't been able to sleep. Even now, she was running on only a few hours of fitful tossings and turnings. _Gods girl, give it a rest. It's not like you to feel bad about what happened. And it's like they said, now those kids have a fighting chance. No one is going to miss that intolerable witch. I've actually done all of Riften a service._ She justified. She yawned and shut her eyes, but Grelod's gnarled face, twisted in a scowl, would instantly pop into view._ Get out of my head! _Her thoughts raged. Hours went by, and she hadn't realized she had finally begun to doze until the carriage had come to a halt. They had arrived at Windhelm. She climbed out, stretched and headed to the gates.

Vex's job was too easy; and it didn't take long for Nola to find her mark, place the stolen item on them and tip off a guard. Unfortunately, she had arrived in Windhelm later than she anticipated; and though she had originally planned on heading out right after the job, she decided to suck it up and stay overnight. Perhaps she'd actually get some sleep that night. Soon, she was upstairs in the main hall, sitting near the fire with some warmed spiced wine in hand. She sat back, listening to the bard sing a gentle tune, and just as she began to nod off a piece of gossip drifted past her ears.

Rumors of a "cursed child" in the city who was performing the "black sacrament" were being passed around at a nearby table. Talk that he had escaped from Honorhall Orphanage in Riften and travelled all the way back to his old home in Windhelm was what caught Nola's interest. When she realized there was no other information she could get out of the chatty visitors, she decided to do her own investigation. After getting directions, she made her way to the boy's old home.

It was dark, but even in the dark she could tell the house hadn't been lived in for quite some time. It gave the area an almost sinister look. Nola didn't scare easily—or at least that's what she allowed everyone to believe—but chills ran up and down her arms as she approached the door. She quietly picked the lock and entered—completely unsure of what she'd find. Inside was no better than outside, but there was a dim light and what sounded like faint chanting coming from upstairs. Nola slowly crept along until she reached the top of the stairs and peered into the room where the light and chanting was coming from.

A boy, looking to be about ten years of age, was on his knees in the middle of the room. In his hand there was a dagger, and on the ground was what looked to be bones placed around to form a person. There was a book and some nightshade scattered around the remains. The boy desperately kept chanting the same thing over and over…"Sweet mother, sweet mother send your child unto me for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear…"

Nola wasn't sure what she was witnessing, but she knew she had to stop it. "Excuse me…I'm not here to hurt you…but are you alright?" She cautiously walked up to him, her eyes ever on the dagger that was still in his hand.

The boy was elated. "It worked! I _knew_ you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament over and over. With the body and the…the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!" He jumped up and down in excitement.

_Dark Brotherhood?_ Nola was confused and wasn't sure how to respond, so she remained silent—continuing to watch the boy with his dagger. She let out a sigh when he finally set the blade on the floor. He then continued.

"You don't have to say anything. There's no need. You're here, so I know you'll accept my contract." He said definitively.

She cleared her throat. "Contract? I'm sorry…"But before she could say anything else the boy—whose name she found out was Aventus Arentino—began telling her about his mother, how she'd died, how he became an orphan and was then forced to move to Riften to live at Honorhall. He then explained how he and the other children were constantly abused, by none other than Grelod the Kind, and how his hatred grew for her each day. He then told her about his escape and how he made it back to his old home. He then talked about his plan for revenge and how he performed the Black Sacrament again and again. As she was listening to his story, Nola's heart broke for the boy. He was too young to be talking about revenge and murder.

"…And now you're _here_! And _you_ can kill Grelod the Kind!" He finished, looking at her with and eager expression. Nola nearly choked. _Of all the ironies…_

She had to clear her throat again. "Well about that…you see…I already…well, she's dead." She finally managed to say.

Aventus just stared at her dumbfounded. "I mean…I knew the Dark Brotherhood was _good_…just not that good! You killed the old hag before I even asked!" He clapped his hands. "Man! When I grow up, I'm gonna be an assassin. That way I can help lots of kids, just like _you_!"

Nola sighed and her shoulders drooped. She just wanted to get out of there. What made it worse was when he offered her _payment_ for her "services". She tried to wave him off and not accept the family heirloom he offered, but he fervently insisted and wouldn't give up until she gave in. When she asked him where he would go now, he told her back to Honorhall—but that he would wait and give them some time to "clean up the mess".

Nola then left, quietly leaving the heirloom on a table downstairs before exiting, and made her way to the stables to hire a carriage_. So much for sleep_. She thought grimly, but then shrugged it off. She just had to get out of that city.

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She arrived in Whiterun two days later. The journey took far later than it should have, due to a broken wheel and a bandit raid. The driver and Nola fought the bandits well enough for being outnumbered, and managed to kill three of them before the fourth fled. Unfortunately, one of the bandits managed a good slash to Nola's thigh before she took him down with her blade. It wasn't a serious injury, but it hurt like hell. When they arrived in Whiterun, the driver offered to help Nola to the apothecary's; but she gratefully declined the offer and limped the long trek to the shop herself, cursing the whole way up.

She finally reached Acadia's Cauldron—the local apothecary store—and purchased a couple healing potions. She didn't even wait to find a chair to sit, but plopped onto the shop's floor. Gritting her teeth, she poured one of the potions onto her leg. The potion worked instantly, closing the gaping wound and stitching the fibers of her skin back together. The pain from the wound healing so quickly was tortuous, and Nola bit her lip until it bled to keep from screaming out. Finally after only a few minutes—it felt more like hours to Nola—the pain began to ebb away and there was only a faint scar where the wound had been.

Acadia helped Nola to her feet and offered her some hot tea, which she gladly accepted. She wasn't normally a tea-drinker, but after such a bothersome journey, she needed something soothing. After she finished her tea and some idle chatter with Acadia, she decided to stop by Belethor's to try and sell off some of the loot she got off of the Bandits.

Satisfied with the deals she got at Belethor's, she decided to head to The Bannered Mare and call it an early night. As she was walking up the steps a courier stopped her.

"I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver. _Your hands only_. Now let's see here…" The young man rummaged through his sack of papers. "Ah…here we are. It doesn't say who it's from, sorry. " He handed her the letter and held his hand out as if expecting something.

Nola was confused by the note and almost didn't catch the hint. "Hmm? Right. Here." She tossed him a septim, and then opened the letter. The parchment seemed old, but it wasn't worn or torn like an old parchment would have been. In the center was a black handprint, and underneath was simply the words _"We know." _Nola turned to ask the courier what it meant, but he was nowhere to be seen. The slight scent of blood drifted up to Nola's nose from the letter, and she shook her head. _Is this some kind of joke? Was it really meant for me? "_Know"_ what?_ She was frustrated. She didn't like being out of the know on anything—_especially _if it had to do with her. She sighed and entered the inn. _It probably wasn't even meant for me, and I paid a septim for nothing._

She sat at the bar and nodded to Hulda. She placed enough coin on the counter for an ale and a room for the night. She was in no mood to talk, especially not to that fool Mikael who came sauntering up to her. He began his countless attempt at sweet-talking Nola, but one glare from her and he sulked back to his table—grumbling how she didn't know what she was missing out on. She rolled her eyes, finished her ale and headed upstairs to her room.

She didn't even take time to undress, but fell onto the bed in complete exhaustion. It had been one hell of a week. Tomorrow she would do that job for Delvin and get back to Riften—back to her own bed at the Cistern. She shut her eyes, and just as she began drifting off, the image of the mysterious letter popped into view—leaving her with an overwhelming sense of unease as darkness engulfed her.

**A/N: **I gotta be honest...I REALLY struggled with this chapter. As it is, I'm still not quite sure how I feel about it. PLEASE let me know what you think. If you liked it, AWESOME! If it sucked...I need to know! I can't fix anything if I don't know what's broken.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Sleepless Nights and Second Chances**

_**Present Time**_

Ralof brought his horse to a halt and dismounted, hitching it to a post alongside a few other horses. He stretched away the stiffness from his ride and yawned. It had only taken him a few short hours to reach Falkreath's camp, but he was exhausted both mentally and physically. His ride had led him past Helgen—which was probably the last place he would ever want to be anywhere close to ever again. It brought back so many memories—more unpleasant than pleasant. To make matters worse, while riding past he had been ambushed by a group of bandits. Generally, he didn't take kindly to the idea of running from a fight, but he was severely outnumbered and was not a fool. He decided to outride them, and thankfully they gave up the chase quite easily.

The sun had set hours ago, and it was terribly late. Most of the other soldiers were in their tents already sleeping. He shut his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands. His face itched from the three-day-old stubble growing on it. He headed over to his commanding officer's tent. His plan was to report in and then head to his own small tent for some much needed sleep.

Thorygg Sun-Killer was leaning over a table with several documents and maps strewn about the top. He looked up and nodded to Ralof. He was a strongly built man and he donned the studded fur and leather Stormcloak Officer's uniform proudly. His steely eyes and grim expression made him seem much older than he really was—being only a few years older than Ralof.

"Just reporting in, Sir." Ralof addressed his superior.

"How was your ride? Anything to report?" Thorygg asked as his attention went back down to the papers in front of him.

"Nothing of significance. There's a group of bandits holed up inside of what remains of Helgen. Other than that, no signs of Imperials."

Thorygg nodded, and then straightened up and looked at Ralof. "Our insider has sent word that a caravan of Imperial troops will be on their way with supplies for Fort Neugrad early tomorrow morning. Needless to say, those supplies will not be making it to their destination." He said pointedly.

Ralof nodded. "Understood. Anything else sir?"

Thorygg rubbed his eyes wearily. "I fear it looks as though another one of ours was captured."

Ralof was slightly taken back by the news. "Who was it sir? When?"

"It's Breldygg, he was sent out on a scouting mission almost two days ago and was last seen near Haemar's Shame. Never returned. I'm sorry, Ralof. I know he was a friend of yours." Thorygg nodded his sympathies and sighed. "I know these tidings are hard, but use this to fuel yourself tomorrow against those damned milk-drinkers!" He patted Ralof on the shoulder and walked him out of the tent. "Get some rest, my friend. Tomorrow you will avenge Breldygg. Blood will be spilled in his honor!"

Ralof quietly started heading to his tent. He passed the infirmary tent and upon hearing groaning coming from inside, he decided to check on the injured. He had a couple minor healing potions and some herbs for the pain on him; so he spent the next hour focusing his attention on the two wounded soldiers, trying to make them as comfortable as possible. His mother had been a gifted alchemist when he was a child, and had taught him a few things while he was growing up. He was especially grateful to know these tricks of the trade now, as the soldiers were mostly made to fend for themselves when it came to injuries—regardless of how severe. To him, there was more to this cause than simply fighting bravely. Being able to look after his own made him feel just as much a warrior, if not more. He was proud to do all he could for his brothers and sisters in arms.

He finally made it to his tent and lay down. Tired as he was however, he couldn't manage to fall asleep. His thoughts were all over the place. He thought of Breldygg and shook his head. He wished he could go out and search for his friend, but in their small camp there was only seven others available—excluding himself and Breldygg—and they would need everyone for their plan to overcome the Imperial caravan tomorrow. He sighed. It wasn't the first friend that had been captured, and it probably wouldn't be the last. In fact, his own cousin had been hauled away by the Thalmor—which was what caused him to join in the first place. He just hated feeling so…helpless. _Maybe he'll escape—or maybe he was never caught in the first place, and is off lollygagging with some milk maid. _He shook his head and somewhat smiled. Breldyin always was a slippery fellow.

His thoughts then went back to Helgen. He sighed. That place. It used to hold such pleasant memories for him. Now those memories were replaced with horrible ones. Watching his comrades be executed in front of his eyes, his own near execution, him nearly clashing blades against a former childhood friend, and let's not forget the fact that a _dragon_—a creature that was only supposed to exist in legends, not real life—attacked and destroyed the entire Keep.

Ralof cursed to himself and rolled over on his side. He remembered hearing the tales of dragons, of Alduin the World Eater—the most fearsome dragon of all—and the Dragonborns of old as a child. But why in all Oblivion would dragons appear now? And why of all times did one just happen to show up right before his, his comrades, and most notably _Ulfric Stormcloak's_ execution? Was it merely coincidence, or was there something more…? He knew of the tales of his future high king's mastery of the Thu'um…did he have something to do with the dragon attack? _But all those people…_Ralof shook his head and decided to not think about it anymore. His thoughts then drifted to Nola. It was there in Helgen that fateful day that he had met her.

_She had been sitting across from him in the prison carriage on the ride to Helgen. She sat there silently with her hands bound, looking so tiny and helpless in the oversized roughspun Tunic that prisoners normally wore. She was covered in dirt and grime, her deep red hair a tangled mess. The look on her face though…it was that which had caught his attention. It was an expression of complete surrender…there was no fight, no hope, left in those pale green eyes. As he talked to ease the minds of the other prisoners, he had hoped to get some sort of reaction from her, but alas she had remained the same. She was there physically, but mentally she appeared already dead._

_She hadn't even batted an eye when it was her turn for the block. She simply knelt down in a bloody puddle, rested her head on the gory stump and stared blankly behind the Headsman. Even when all was interrupted by the sudden attack of the dragon, she just sat next to the block in a daze. She would have been burned to a crisp at that moment had Ralof not tackled her to the ground and out of the path of flames. Even still, he practically had to drag her out of harm's way. It wasn't until it was just him and her safely inside the Keep that she began to stir from whatever trance she had been in. Her reaction however was far from what Ralof would have expected._

_The girl attacked him, nearly knocking him to the ground, and began throwing punches and slaps with her hands still bound. She began screaming at him, "Why?! Why did you save me?! Why couldn't you just let me die?! Do you realize what you've done?!" Once he recovered from the shock it was fairly easy for him to restrain her hands, and after much thrashing around she went limp and slumped to her knees on the ground. She then burst into anguished sobs and began hitting the stone floor. "Why…can't…I just…die?!" She pleaded weakly. "Just…leave me. _Please._"_

_Ralof was nearly tempted as he could hear the screams and torment outside and knew they must move now or perish; but his sense of honor would not allow him to leave this clearly distressed young woman to her doom. "Listen friend, I don't know you or why these Imperials wanted you dead—and frankly I don't care. As far as I'm concerned we've both been allowed a second chance at life and I'll be doomed to Oblivion first before I die here by some damned, mythical dragon!" He began helping her up, despite her weak protests. "I don't care what you do outside these walls, but as long as you're with me, I will see to it you're second chance is not squandered!" He then cut the binds around her wrist. _

_She rubbed her raw wrists and looked up at him, her dirt and tear streaked face full of regret and dismay. "I don't deserve a second chance. This must be a fluke, or a sick and twisted joke of the divines." She replied softly and looked back down at her feet._

Who is this girl? And what in Oblivion could she possibly have done to have such a burden that drives her to desire death? _He wondered. "Nonsense. Now I don't know who's owed a second chance or not. I guess only you can determine that—based one what you do with it. But I _do _know we need to get out of here before that beast finds a way inside or the walls of this keep decide to bury us—either way doesn't set well with me. Now come on!" He led her through a few corridors until they entered a room with a few Stormcloaks' bodies strewn about the floor. He knelt down and paid homage to his fallen comrades and then grimly began stripping one of the bodies of their armor. He handed the pieces to Nola who stared at him confused. "It might not fit perfectly, but any armor is better than what you have on now. Put it on." He grunted. "And here. It's not much, but at least it gives you something to defend yourself with." With that he handed her a war axe, but was surprised when she placed the axe down and picked up two daggers off the floor. He shrugged and picked up a war hammer off one of the bodies._

_As they continued on, he would occasionally look behind him to make sure she was still following, and would vocally make notes about their location and where they needed to go; but she remained silent, following a ways behind him cautiously. He was so caught up in making sure she was still following, that he walked right in on three Imperial soldiers who were on the ready._

_They instantly attacked him all at once. He tried to fight back, but they had the upper hand of surprise and managed to stagger him enough to knock him to the ground. One soldier raised his battle axe to deliver a finishing blow to his head, but never got the opportunity as a steel dagger found its way straight to his heart. Nola ripped her thrown dagger out of the soldier's chest and helped Ralof up before she lunged forward slicing her way past another soldier. On passing, she managed to gash open his upper thigh, debilitating him and bringing him down to the ground. Ralof was stunned. He watched her as she finished off that solider and made her way to the third—all before he could even blink. He marveled at her skill at duel-wielding the daggers and understood now why she waved off the axe he had offered. The speed of her technique amazed him. She was no stranger to wielding a blade—that much was obvious. Before he had time to wrap his head around any of this, she had leaped onto the back of the third man. The soldier desperately flailed around attempting to knock her off, but in one fluid motion she had slit his throat and his gurgling, lifeless body crumpled to the ground, and she fell with him. _

_She got up on her knees and caught her breath as Ralof just stared. He finally cleared his throat and managed a "Thank you." And then curiosity got the better of him. "I don't understand…Why fight them if you were so set on dying?"_

_She stood up and dusted her hands on her thighs and wiped off her deadly weapons. She then looked up at him, "I'm not convinced I deserve that 'second chance'; but you, 'friend', do." She then began searching around for anything useful in the room, and then they moved on. _

_Corridor after corridor, they made their way around the twisted halls. They were forced to make a detour at one point after the dragon managed to bring down a massive part of the wall. They hurried along, battling a few more imperials that used bows in one room. Nola looted one of the bows and the arrows and Ralof quickly learned that she had quite the gift for archery as well. They continued on down into what seemed to be a cave of some sort and ended up in an old room where a few frostbite spiders were lurking. Once they had dispatched the spiders, Ralof shuddered as he kicked one of the large corpses. "I hate those damn things. Too many eyes, you know?" She didn't respond, but Ralof noted a slight twinkle in the girl's eyes at that moment, and wait… did he dare detect a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips?_

_They made their way stealthily past a bear in another grand opening of the cave, and within moments were back outside breathing fresh air. They snuck behind a rock and watched as the dragon circled the skies, swooping to and fro searching for more victims. The dragon finally gave up and let out a roar that shook the very soul of Ralof, and then he was gone. They were safe…for now._

_Ralof breathed a sigh of relief and spoke. "I think we're safe now, but we shouldn't linger here for long." He looked back at the smoking remains of Helgen and let out a sad whistle. "I…just can't believe it's gone" Then a thought occurred to him. "I need to warn the people of Riverwood! They could be next!" He exclaimed as he thought of his family and the danger they could be in. "Listen, I can't thank you enough for helping me back there. But now I must go. I have to get to Riverwood and warn them about the dragon. My sister and her husband are the town's leaders. You're more than welcome to come with me, or you're free to go…well, wherever you want really." He took her hand and shook it, and then without a second glance, started jogging up the path towards Riverwood. _

_The next thing Ralof knew, the girl was jogging by his side. He nodded to her and didn't break pace, but a small smiled tugged at his lips. "You know, you've got quite the skill with a blade—a bow too. We could really use brave fighters like you. Nord or not, we could use all the help we can get for our cause." _

_She didn't reply and kept her pace steady. _

_They passed the Guardian stones and Ralof arched his eyebrow as Nola unabashedly picked the Thief stone. "You know the thing about second chances…you don't have to live the life you did before. You can always start over." He gently offered. She didn't reply or look at him, and he shrugged as they continued on. They easily picked off a couple wolves that attacked them on their way, and a few moments later they had reached the entry gates of Riverwood._

_Ralof found his sister Gerdur and her husband Hod at the mill they owned, and introduced Nola to them. To avoid Ralof being seen by any Imperial guards, they went inside to discuss the events of that day. After much discussion, the decision was made that the Jarl of Whiterun must be notified about the events at Helgen. Hopefully, he could send reinforcements to Riverwood—in case the dragon attacked. Ralof was slightly surprised when Nola offered herself to do the task. He would have gone with her, if his sister hadn't reminded him that he was currently a wanted man by the Imperials. In any case, he got the feeling that the girl was anxious to be on her way. Once all the details were worked out, they were given clean clothes, fresh food and warm beds—which they couldn't have been happier to accept._

_Early the next morning Ralof gave Nola a few tips about the path towards Whiterun, and as they said goodbye, curiosity got the better of him again, and before he thought better of it he spoke. "I have to ask—and you don't have to answer if you don't want to—but whatever did you do to make those blasted Imperials want you dead?"_

_At first, Nola looked surprised by his question, but then after thinking it over for a moment she answered matter-of-factly. "Oh. Well…I stole a horse." Not wasting another moment, she gave him a quick smile and a wave and headed on her way to Whiterun._

Ralof was brought back to reality and realized he didn't have much time left to sleep before their mission. He shut his eyes and her face popped into view. He chuckled. _Stole a horse…I have a feeling there's more to it than that. _The mystery of that girl! After Helgen, he had run into her in Ivaarstead a few weeks later where they grabbed a meal and drinks together, and then seeing her last night and earlier this morning, he realized he still didn't know her any better than he did that first day. He was normally very good at reading people…but her? Not a chance. He'd be lying if he said that didn't get under his skin a bit. _Oh well. She's gone now and who knows if I'll see her again? _ He tried to shake her from his mind, but couldn't help wondering what she had been doing with that "second chance" in the last four months since Helgen.

As the sky began to lighten with the dawn, He huffed and sat up, accepting the fact that he would not be getting any sleep this night. He got up, got his gear ready and decided to rally up the others.

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The Imperial caravan slowly made its way down the path towards Fort Neugrad. The slowness was partially due to the weight of supplies in the wagon, and partially due to the paranoia of the Imperial Captain. There were ten soldiers with him, but he still didn't want to take any chances.

Ralof and his group of seven were nestled behind trees and boulders a little ways up on the hill overlooking the road. They watched as the caravan slowly drew closer, and Ralof motioned for them all to draw arrows. Once the caravan was in range he signaled to fire and a barrage of arrows fell upon the unsuspecting soldiers. Ralof wasn't near as good with a bow as he was with a blade, so he and a few of the Stormcloaks ran down the hill to meet the Imperials head on. They were outnumbered, but had the element of surprise on their side, making the battle about even. The archers remained on the hills picking off any runners, and Ralof met the Captain head-on.

They were both even in stature and fighting ability and the next few minutes seemed like grueling hours with neither gaining an advantage against the other. One would advance, the other would block, and vice versa. Then one of the horses reared and lurched forward—causing the wagon to slam against Ralof, knocking him to the ground. He lost his weapon in the fall, and was barely able to roll to the side just as the captain swung his greatsword down upon him. He managed to kick upwards into the captain's gut, knocking the wind out of him, and got up in time to throw a punch to the officer's jaw before he was able to gather his wits. The man was thrown backwards and landed on his back in the middle of the road. Ralof grabbed an abandoned sword off the ground and held it to the captain's throat.

After the Captain had yielded and been bound, Ralof looked around to see how the others had fared. Three other Imperials had surrendered and were being secured alongside their captain, the rest had fallen. He was relieved to see that his group had lost no one and nodded his head in satisfaction. Today was a good day.

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When they arrived back at the camp it was mid-afternoon. The soldiers cheered as they led the wagon with the supplies up the hill. Thorygg met them as they entered the camp and slapped Ralof on the back. "Well done sons of Skyrim!" He shouted. "Though today was but a small victory, it was still a victory against those faithless dogs! And one day these small victories will combine and we will have won this war and gained our independence from these Thalmor puppets! To victory…or Sovngarde!" He raised his sword as he shouted the last part, and the rest followed him. "To victory…or Sovngarde!"

Thorygg then motioned for Ralof to follow him to his tent. Once inside he checked to make sure they were alone and then cut to the chase. "You've done a great work here today, Ralof. I can't thank you enough. But…I have another job for you, and it's of the utmost importance and secrecy." He looked to see if Ralof was listening and continued. "Word has just come to me that the Jagged Crown has been found. If this is true, then Jarl Ulfric must know and must retrieve it before it ends up in the Imperials' hands. I don't need to explain to you how important this is for us…for _him._" Ralof nodded. All Nords knew of the Jagged Crown and its symbol of leadership and power for the kings and queens of Skyrim. If Ulfric were to possess this crown, it would hopefully give him the ground he needed among the Jarls to accept him as the true deserving High King of Skyrim. Thorygg continued. "I need you to deliver this information to Jarl Ulfric right away. It's said that the Crown is located in the tombs of Korvanjund. We can only assume that if we know it's been found, that _they _know as well, so time is of the essence!"

That was enough for Ralof. He took the sealed letter Thorygg gave him, grabbed his gear and mounted his horse. The fact that he was without sleep was the farthest from his mind. If there was even the slightest chance for Ulfric to possess the Jagged Crown, then he would do everything in his power to see that happen.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey all! So first, I just want to thank you for sticking around my story, and I hope you're enjoying it so far! I still would really appreciate the reviews-positive or negative(I welcome both, as I would love to hear how I'm doing, and how I can improve as a writer!) And if you _really_ like my story, I would be so humbled and appreciative of the follows! Anyways, I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out. My computer took a spill a while back, and the jack for my cord broke. sad face So I had to wait for a new one to be delivered! And I confess, I really struggled with this particular chapter, as I'm really not a "dark" person, but I'm trying to convey a dark feel for the characters...I hope it's not _too_ cheesy. If so, please let me know! :)**

**~TAA**

**OH! I almost forgot. I've changed the rating to "M"...just to be on the safe side. **

**Chapter 5: Memories—Part 2**

_**Six months earlier:**_

Nola groggily woke up after a painfully deep sleep. _I'm going to have to ask Hulda what was in that ale. _She thought to herself as she struggled to shake the drowsiness from her body. As she lay there for a moment and allowed the fog to clear from her senses, she immediately felt something was off. Her heart began to quicken, and as she clumsily attempted to sit up, her vision cleared and her eyes focused on a lone figure facing her that was casually sitting on top of a tall bookshelf with one leg dangling off the side. The figure was clad from head to toe in an unusual skintight black and rust colored leather armor, and its face was covered in some sort of mask or wrap that only allowed its mysteriously dark eyes to be visible.

"Sleep well?" The figure spoke with a syrupy smooth, yet sinister, feminine voice. She—as Nola concluded was what the figure was—spoke in an almost taunting tone.

Nola's heart was pounding in her ears by now and she hastily reached for her dagger—only to realize she had nothing on her but the clothes she was wearing. She cursed to herself as she hastily tried to jump to her feet—only to have her legs buckle and her land on her knees. Her body was still trying to wake itself up from whatever drug she had clearly been given.

"Looking for this?" The woman tantalizingly offered, waving Nola's dagger back and forth. "Impressive blade…would hate to lose something so…valuable." She gently stroked the ebony blade and continued. "Such remarkable craftsmanship…so small, yet so…_deadly_."

"W-who are you? What do you want with me?" Nola tried to make it sound as demanding as possible, but it came out as barely a croak. She cursed again.

"Does it really matter? You're warm, dry…and still very much _alive_. That's more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmm?" The woman sneered.

Nola's heart stopped and her mind began to race. _Who is this woman? How does she know about that? What else does she know?_ She ground her teeth together and cursed to herself again. _Get yourself together, girl! What does it matter now? If she wanted you dead, you'd be dead._ _Stop acting like a weakling and_ _keep your mouth _shut_._ Nola just stared at the woman—jaw clenched—and said nothing.

The woman paused for a moment and waited. When no reaction or answer returned to her she continued. "_How _do I know about that? Half of Skyrim knows. Old hag gets butchered in her orphanage? Things like that tend to get around." She snickered. "Oh but don't misunderstand…I'm not criticizing. It was a _good _kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins, to boot. Well done!" She lightly applauded and waited for a response from Nola. When there was none, she feigned a sigh and continued. "Ah, but now there's this slight…problem. You see, that little Arentino boy was looking for the _Dark Brotherhood_—for me, and my…associates. Grelod the Kind was by all rights a Dark Brotherhood contract.A kill…that _you_ stole. A kill you must now repay."

Nola would not give this woman the satisfaction of a response, and maintained her silence continuing to stare into those dark eyes. She was unsure of what was to come next, but she braced herself for anything.

"By Sithis, you are a silent one. No matter. I'll cut right to it. You murdered the old woman in the orphanage. You owe the Dark Brotherhood a kill, and I've come to collect. Now if you'll turn around, you'll notice my guests. I've "collected" them from…well, that's not really important. The here and now, _that's_ what's important. Now as I was saying, there's a contract out on one of these fine folk, which means that person isn't getting out of here alive. But…_which_ one is it? Go on…see if you can figure it out." With that she waved her hands towards Nola as if to shoe her off.

Nola reluctantly got to her feet and turned around, noticing for the first time her surroundings. She was in some sort of old abandoned cabin. The air was thick with dust and cobwebs, and broken furniture was scattered around the one room building. The air was also thick with the scent of blood, and as her eyes grew more accustomed to the dim lighting, she realized the room was splattered here and there with it. She was also then made aware that across the large room there were three bound hostages kneeling on the floor. They were all lined up against the far wall and had execution style hoods covering their faces. These must be the "guests" the woman was referring to. She glanced back at the silent figure on top of the bookshelf and with much effort (as the drugs still had quite the effect on her body), cautiously walked over to the three.

Though she couldn't see their faces, she could tell one was a man, one was a woman, and one was a male Khajit. As she drew nearer she watched the figures begin to turn their heads in her direction as though they could sense her presence. The man spoke first, muffled whimpering and pleading coming from his covered face. He was shortly joined by the woman who was demanding to be released and was spewing out all sorts of obscenities. The Khajit just sat there, but Nola could just make out what sounded like almost a sort of hissing and a snicker.

She then began gently questioning each of them, trying to figure out who they were. She started with the man. Once she was able to make out what he was saying through all the blubbering, she found out his name was Fultheim the Fearless (Nola couldn't help but note the irony), and he was a mercenary—a sword for hire. Considering his occupation, it wouldn't have surprised Nola in the least if someone had it out for him.

She then moved on to the woman. Her name was Alea Quintus and it turned out she had been abandoned by her husband, and was now raising their six children alone. Despite the demands and curses being spewed at her, Nola felt a twinge of pity for this hot headed woman. She could see why others might want to "shut her up", but she also couldn't blame the woman for her fiery disposition.

She moved on to the Khajit. Try as she might, the Khajit would not answer any of her questions, but instead would snicker through his teeth to himself. Frustrated, Nola left the feline, still unsure of who had a contract on their head. She walked back over to her waiting captor.

"Well? Did you figure it out? Maybe not so easy as you might have thought, hmm? Such is life. You'll find that we all deserve death for one reason or another; and rest assured death will come to us all in the end—we just…_help_ some get to the end quicker. Now…a kill is due. Make your choice…make your kill. I'm just here to watch…and admire." The figure put her hands behind her head and leaned back. Then she sat back up as a thought came to her. "Oh. I suppose you'll want _this_." With that she nonchalantly tossed Nola's dagger to her.

Nola was careful to catch the dagger from the opposite end of the blade—though caught off guard by this stranger's demands. "Wait…you want _me_ to kill for you? I thought I already 'stole' your kill in the first place."

"Ahhh…she speaks. Yes…you stole from us—I don't care how or why you did it—but now you'll repay in blood. You're next kill belongs to _us_. Who you kill matters not to me. You can kill one of them, you can kill all three of them—you can kill yourself, for all I care. Just kill _somebody_…and then you walk. It's just that simple. Now. Make. Your. Choice." She said evenly and put her hands back behind her head and leaned back.

_Are _you_ an option?_ Nola thought wishfully and almost spoke it aloud, but thought better of it. Despite all this madness she was still alive, and that was the only thing that mattered. She did spend a moment contemplating the idea—imagining herself thrusting her "impressive blade" through her smug captor's heart—but reality hit her of just how slim her chances would be of getting out of there alive. Try as she might, her body still seemed to be struggling against whatever drug had been given her—leaving her less than capable if a struggle ensued. She figured this stranger had taken all of this into consideration, which is probably why she had no problem returning Nola's weapon. Nola looked at her dagger and then at the hostages_. I can't just…_kill_ them. _She thought desperately as she tried to come up with a better option, to no avail. _Just do it…_Another part of her pushed. _They all probably deserve it anyways. Everyone does for some reason or other—you know this better than anyone. And who's to say that this stranger won't kill them once she's finished with you anyways? It's not that big of a deal. Clearly no one is looking for any of them, so they won't be missed. No one has to know. Yeah…but who's to say she'll let me live once I've killed one of them? And then I die as a murderer. YOU ALREADY ARE A MURDERER. Why stop now?_

As she was battling this out in her mind, she found herself back in front of the hostages. Fultheim's pleadings were becoming more desperate as he choked back sobs, and Alea's pointed threats were becoming louder and more obnoxious with every passing moment. As Nola was finally coming to a decision, the Khajit spoke for the first time.

"You must forgive my rudeness earlier, stranger. I'm not especially fond of being taken against my will…but alas, it wouldn't be the first time I've been bagged and dragged somewhere. Tell you what, stranger, You release me, and my associates won't hunt you down and butcher you in the middle of the street. It's a win-win, wouldn't you say?"

Nola was caught off guard by the calm and confident manner in which the feline spoke. "Oh really? And who are you to be making deals?"

"Ahhh…Vasha, at your service. Obtainer of goods…taker of lives…and defiler of daughters. Have you not heard of me? Perhaps I'll have my people carve my name in your corpse, as a reminder…" A low feline growl escaped.

But Nola had more than heard of him. Growing up mostly in Skyrim and spending most of her young adult years on her own, she had spent some time travelling with a Khajit caravan—had even become one of their own for a time—until they had been destroyed. In fact, Vasha had had a hand—or paw—in the betrayal and murders of her feline family. Nola was incredulous to the fact that this devious and evasive character had actually been caught—as she, along with many others—had searched for him throughout the entirety of Skyrim. And of all places, he turned out to be right _here_ in front of her. She needed to be sure.

"I see. Sorry, can't say that I have…Tell me, _Vasha_. Would someone pay to have you killed?" She asked.

The cat snickered. "Me? Ha! Are you serious?"

"Oh Come on…you can tell me. We're friends here." Nola pried as she felt her temper begin to boil and rise ever so slowly.

The cat cackled and hissed all at once. "The real question is, 'Would someone pay to have me killed…_again_.' If a day goes by without someone trying to gut me in the street…I get disappointed. But what can I say? I do my business, and they do theirs. I'm just_ a better_ businessman."

Nola ground her teeth together. There was no doubt. This conniving, arrogant and malicious cat was the one and the same Vasha—who had countless times, it turned out, made deals with bandits to murder his own to make a profit. The Vasha she knew was all about "business deals"…no matter the cost.

"So what do you say, my friend? Do we have a deal?" Vasha pressed.

"Sorry…I've had a better offer." Nola answered, and with that, she ran her dagger through his heart. As the feline gasped and hissed his last, she whispered. "It's just good business this way." She felt the Khajit's dark soul be ripped from his body, as it filled the black gem in her pocket. She knew a mage in Morthal who would be most appreciative of this little gift.

She pulled her dagger out of the lifeless form and wiped the blood off on his fancy tunic. He wasn't going to mind, after all. She sat there staring at the body, and was surprised at how easy that had been, and how unremorseful she was once again. She then snapped back to reality and realized that the other two hostages had lost their minds once she had killed Vasha. Their screams and sobs were just too much.

"_ENOUGH!_" She bellowed. "Or you'll _both _be next!" Fultheim yelped and was silent, though Nola could hear him taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Alea, on the other hand, attempted to retort a reply, but was cut short by Nola's blade against her throat. "Just give me a reason to shut you up for good, I _beg_ you." She hissed in Alea's ear. Alea froze, and not another sound came from her lips.

Nola then calmly walked back to the bookshelf. Though she couldn't see the her captor's face, she could read in her dark eyes that she was indeed amused—if not impressed.

"Well, well…the conniving Khajit. Cat like that was sure to have enemies. It's no wonder you chose him. And did I detect a sense of…familiarity? What a _marvelous_ coincidence!" She clapped her hands and dropped off the bookshelf, landing silently and gracefully on her feet. "I have to be honest, I began to doubt you had it in you…but now that I've seen you in 'action', I have to say I'm impressed. Short, sweet and to the point. Well done."

"I don't need your praise. Now you have your kill. I believe I'm free to go?" Nola said pointedly, glaring up into the masked face.

"Not so fast! Not so fast…this is the best part! I gladly would like to extend an invitation to you to join my little family, the Dark Brotherhood. We could use someone like you. I see that fire in you…the one you try to hide…the one that feeds on your anger. Why hide it? It's a part of you. I can help you fuel that fire and tap into the strength you_ really_ have. Join our family. You need us, we need you. It's as simple as that." The woman shrugged and continued. "Now, in the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase, "Silence, my Brother." Then you're in and you're new life begins. " She winked and headed to the door. "Oh! I suppose you'll want the rest of your belongings. They're over there in that chest. Here's the key." She tossed a small key over to Nola. "I'll see you at home."

Nola wasn't really sure how to handle this turn of events, but she knew enough to answer, "I wouldn't count on that."

The woman turned around. "We'll see. Remember, we're the only ones who'll know and appreciate your _true_ self." Without another word she unlocked the cabin door and slipped outside.

Nola rushed to the door to check outside and see where the woman was going, but she was nowhere to be seen. Nola went back inside and grabbed the rest of her things from the dusty, blood stained chest that was located in a corner of the room. As she was about to leave, she paused and headed to the two hostages. She went behind Alea and placed a small knife in her bound hands. Alea jumped and let out a small yelp. "Be still. I'm not going to harm either of you. Once you hear the door shut you may set yourselves free and go home. You will report this to _no one_. Forget this happened, or next time you won't be so lucky." She warned. They silently nodded their hooded heads in compliance, and she made her way to the door.

Once outside she took a moment to get her bearings and realized she was in the marshes just north of Morthal. She wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the wretched place as possible. She decided to make her way south east towards Whiterun, planning to complete her job for Delvin and go home.

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After stopping in Morthal for the night and delivering the filled black soul gem to Falion, Morthal's court wizard, she made her way southwest along the River Hjaal to go around the mountains before heading east towards Whiterun Hold. While travelling, she couldn't stop playing over the events in the cottage—especially the part where the stranger wished to recruit her to the Dark Brotherhood. _Her._ Now, of course she had always heard stories about the Dark Brotherhood—the infamous organization of trained assassins—but that's all they ever were..._stories_. She never had seen any proof of their existence and had always thought it was a concocted tale parents made so that their children would always behave. _Well, they're very much real—that's for certain_. She thought shaking her head. And to think she was invited to join them! She honestly didn't know what to feel. All her emotions were mixed together, tossing and turning in a storm of uncertainty. Pride. Fear. Resentment. Excitement. Anger…so much anger. Once again, sleep would not come as she simply could not shut down her overactive brain.

As she was entering the outskirts of Whiterun, she witnessed a couple of bandits attacking a peddler and his horse. She instantly drew her bow and rushed to the aid of the peddler. Unfortunately, once the bandits were finished off, the peddler began attacking Nola. She tried to run; but he pursued, screaming and yelling the entire time—eventually drawing the attention of a couple guards. Soon after, they had her cornered with nowhere to run. After the guards waved off the peddler—assuring him they had this matter "taken care of"—they began drawing closer, laughing amongst themselves on what they could "do with her".

Nola had had it. With her daggers drawn, she lunged at one of the guards. Unfortunately, he was two times her size and easily threw a punch in her direction, knocking her to the ground. The other guard grabbed her by the hair, lifting her off the ground and shaking the daggers out of her hands. The first guard sneered into her face—the foul scent of strong mead on his breath—nearly causing her to gag. She kicked and writhed as he wrapped his grimy fingers around her throat.

"Oh a fighter, eh? I love the fighters. Their spirits are always the best to watch break. And a beauty too…my, you are a prize." He grinned a dirty, crooked toothed grin as he leaned in to try and sloppily kiss her. In all desperation she threw her leg back and it landed right in the second guards groin—causing him to curse and release his grip on her as he fell to the ground in agony. As she also fell to the ground, she rummaged around and found a jagged rock that was double the size of her fist. She gripped it and swung it just as the first guard lunged at her. A large cracking sound came from it as it made its mark on his skull. He crumpled in a lifeless heap before her, and she scrambled to get up. She grabbed the guard's sword, just as he was recovering and rising to his knees, and held it out in a warning stance. He threw his hands out in surrender.

"Easy there, girl. No one needs to do anything rash. You win. Just leave, and no one needs to know about this. You're a free woman. Just please…I'm…sorry…" He pleaded as a sob crept up in his throat. Nola could see he wasn't any older than her. It didn't matter.

She thrust the sword into the young man's chest, and stayed the blade as he cried out. She watched the life slowly drain from his eyes, and then yanked the sword from his lifeless body. She threw the sword onto the ground and sank to her knees. Sobs erupted from the very depths of her and the next few moments were spent letting out every emotion that had struck her in the past week.

"I can't…do this…anymore." She sobbed. "To Oblivion with _ALL_ of you!" She screamed to the air. She sat there for an extra moment, and the memory of the stranger's words came back to her: _"I see that fire in you…why hide it...it's a part of you…join our family…our Sanctuary…your new life begins…" _

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

A few days later, at dusk, Nola was standing before The Black Door. It was raining, and light thunder peals would every so now and then scatter the skies, adding to the entire grim mood of the place. There was a low whistle or hum that was coming from the sinister looking door. It had carvings of skulls with the hand print from her mysterious letter plastered on the largest skull in the center of the door. Nola felt sick from the sight.

_Turn back now…it's not too late. Don't do this._ Her inside voice pleaded. _You're better than this._ It reasoned. "Am I?" She questioned aloud. She reached her hand out to the door and hesitated. _Once you go through that door, you can't go back. _The voice warned. "So be it." She answered with finality.

She placed her hand on the hand print, and it instantly lit up in a shade of blood red. Then a deep hissing voice that brought chills up and down Nola's entire body resounded from the depths of the door and asked a solitary question. "What is the music of life?"

Nola took a deep breath and answered. "Silence, my brother."


End file.
